Obama Oh Eight!

My fingers are tired from holding up two Barrack Obama signs on the traffic island at Castro and Market for a couple hours. It’s a good tired, I think.

The last time I stood on a street corner proclaiming for a Presidential candidate was in 1960 about 100 feet from the polling place at the local school. Since I lived in John Kennedy’s old Congressional District, the crowd was pretty friendly to the 7-year-old me. 

The crowds driving by this afternoon were pretty friendly to the 54-year-old me.  Lots of honks, waves, and pumped fists of encouragement.  The assortment of passing fans surprised me. I guess I had subconsciously bought into “women like Hillary” and “Hispanics are voting for Clinton”. Yet, the older car with three Latino-looking boys in the back seat was a loud supporter.  (The kids liked the sign I held that said “Fierce!”) And, there were many pious-looking prim Prius women drivers who sounded their horns in passing. A couple of MUNI drivers honked (and not just at the traffic), and so did a few other city and corporate vehicles.  The man in the shiny black Mercedes Kompressor flipped me off, but I didn’t like his car anyway.  And there was a vigorous-looking mid-50’s man in a convertible bellowing “Hillary! Hillary!” as he passed.  I could only be jealous that that cheerleader with such a powerful voice had picked the other candidate.

But overwhelmingly the drivers gave back a lot of energy and smiles.  A lot!

My arms are sore, but what an emotional high for the day!

Last night I made a few more Get Out The Vote calls, and I was out the door by 5:15 this morning to hang reminders on selected voter’s doors in my assigned precinct. 

Winding up my stint at Castro and Market was fitting, too.  That’s ground zero for my political home now.

I am happy to have contributed a bit.

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